


Fury

by crazylittleelf



Series: Absolution [3]
Category: Fringe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-08
Updated: 2010-10-08
Packaged: 2017-10-12 12:46:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazylittleelf/pseuds/crazylittleelf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lincoln kissed her that one time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fury

_breathe in deep, and cleanse away our sins  
and we'll pray that there's no god  
to punish us and make a fuss  
_

Olivia can't stop shaking.

She's been working with Fringe Division for three weeks, and she thinks maybe it was a bad decision. A really bad decision, because her mind _really_ doesn't want to deal with what she saw today and and she just can't stop shaking.

Adrenaline's been replaced by cold fear, leaving her feeling empty and hollowed out, like almost dying stole something from her. It's not the first time she's almost died, but before it was always a bullet or something she can wrap her mind around; dangerous but real. Normal. The locker room is blessedly empty and she leans against the row of sinks and stares at the polished wood of the lockers and sucks in deep breaths, trying to slow her pounding heart. She closes her eyes and sees it again, the amber spilling towards them, trapping victims in it's path. She feels her feet scrabbling on the loose rocks, muscles aching as she hauls Lincoln towards safety, mind babbling that she'll probably get fired if she let's her boss get killed because she couldn't get him out of the way of the quarantine amber in time.

She forces her eyes open and concentrates on the floor tiles, kneels to unlace her boots, and it's almost beyond her, getting the fingers to pull the laces free. Exhaustion floods over her and it's tempting to stay there on the floor, to curl up on the cold tile. She pushes herself upright again and concentrates on getting her shaking fingers to work open the buckle of her belt. She hears the steps, cadence familiar after only a few weeks. She can't make her fingers do what she wants them to, she's shaking too badly.

Lincoln's fingers slide over hers, and her mind moves to make her push his hands away, but he's shaking just a badly as she is. They're both shaking, and her hands aren't under his anymore, aren't pushing him away. They're fumbling with his belt. He's faster than she is, has his hands inside her pants already, pushing them down over her hips. His fingers feel rough on her skin, and she can smell stale sweat from both of them, stale fear.

She kicks her pants away even as he's lifting her on to the edge of the sink. She shoves his pants down around his thighs, just out of the way, and lock her legs around his hips. He gets his hands under her ass, lifting and angling, and her hand is between them guiding his cock. He pushes into her with a sharp thrust, and she whimpers a little as her mind catches up to what her body's doing, fucking her boss in the locker room at work. She braces one hand against the countertop to get better traction and rolls her hips. He sinks in deeper, and it's so good, that frantic pace he's setting, driving away the terror that threatens to suffocate her.

She claws at him, twisting her fingers into his shirt where it falls over his hips. His breath is hot on her neck where's he burying his face, teeth grazing along her skin, ticklish before they nip hard into her. She wants to tell him not to mark her, but she just muffles her mouth on his shoulder and pulls him closer, pleasure twisting through her. His breathing is going ragged, and she's so close, guilt and fear and lust tangling together and dragging her over the edge as she bites the cloth of his shirt to keep from crying out.

She holds her legs around him as long as she can, trying not to move, but she's still shaking, trembling with exhaustion now, and she eases herself down, pinned between Lincoln and the edge of the counter. She can feel fine tremors shaking through his body. With his boots on, and her barefoot, he's taller than she is, and her head rests just above his heart. She unclenches her fingers and smooths them over his shirt. His hands are rubbing comforting circles on her back.

She turns her face into him, angling up to find his mouth. His lips are warm and slick on hers, hesitant in a way that's completely at odds with what they've just done. She rasps her tongue over his slowly, savoring. When they break apart for air, they lean together, forehead to forehead. She wants to explain, make excuses for herself, but the silence is full of understanding.

 


End file.
